


A Man For The Season

by indiefic



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, alternate universe where everybody's a civilian, rentboy Steve Rogers, sexwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 15:42:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13126764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/pseuds/indiefic
Summary: Peggy's brother is getting married and she needs a fake boyfriend for the proceedings.  Behold Steve Rogers.





	A Man For The Season

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mithborien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithborien/gifts).



> Written as part of the 2017 #SteggySecretSanta on Tumblr for mithborien!

 

 

Peggy checked her watch and toyed with the lid on her coffee cup.  Where in the bloody hell was he?  She didn’t have all day.  Maybe it was a sign.  This was a ridiculous idea that was best abandoned.  Picking up her clutch, she stood up - just as a man came to stand at her table.  

“Ms Carter, right?  Sorry I’m late.  I’m Steve Rogers.”  

She stared at him, aware she was frowning.  She was taken aback by ... everything.  He was exceedingly attractive, she understood that.  But she wasn’t a stranger to attractive men.  They certainly didn’t leave her tongue tied.  But it was a strange combination of his physical stature - impressive; his personal style - oddly eclectic; and his features - highly compelling without being overly perfected.

He motioned to the chair she had just vacated.  “Would you like to sit?”

Frowning harder, she took a seat.  

His smile was blinding, his teeth perfectly straight and white.  “Let me guess,” he said quietly, glancing down at the table, and then back up to her, “you’ve never done anything like this before.”  His eyes were a piercing shade of blue, his dark lashes luxurious thick.

Peggy let out a bark of laughter and then caught herself.  She took a drink of coffee.  “Uh, no,” she said.  “No, I certainly have not done anything like this previously.”  She caught herself too late, realizing she might have just offended him.

He did purse his lips together and give her a tight smile, but he merely said, “Well, I have, so I can help you navigate this.”

In spite of the awkwardness of the situation, Peggy found herself relaxing.  He was charming, self-deprecating, and seemed rather less full of himself than she would have assumed for someone in his position.  The coffee shop was busy, bustling with people and noise, which was actually a bit of a relief.  It made it nearly impossible for anyone to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“The general overview goes like this,” he said, leaning in close, “if, after we talk, you decide that you want to formalize things, we come to an agreement on the duration of the contract, the types of activities covered, and the rate of compensation.  We trade contact information, and we set a first meeting.”

Peggy narrowed her eyes.  “What is the rate of compensation?”

He didn’t blush, which was odd considering his coloring, milky white that played well off his blond hair.  “The rate depends entirely on the services rendered.”

“I want to be clear,” Peggy said firmly, crossing her legs and leaning in toward him.  “No sex.”

He held her gaze evenly.  “That’s perfectly fine.  Many of my clients are the same.  Any physical contact is completely at your discretion, but it must be negotiated, and agreed to, in advance.”

Peggy looked him over.  “Has Angie ever been one of your clients?”

His expression gave nothing away.  “I do not discuss my clients with anyone.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy called Angie on her way back to the office.  “How did you say you know Steve?”

“He’s been in a couple of my acting workshops.  I think he’s an illustrator.  I see him around the studios.”  Angie paused.  “Did you call him?  Oh my god, you did.  What did he say?”

  
“Explain this to me again,” Peggy said, ignoring Angie’s questions.  “Why did you have the impression that Steve was someone who could help me out in this situation?”

Angie paused.  “I don’t know.  He went with Laura to her grandma’s ninety-fifth birthday party, pretended to be her date.  It seemed to work out.  I thought he could help you out with all of Michael’s wedding drama.  You’re the one who’s always saying you’re too busy to date.  I figured Steve might be better than having your mother try to set you up again.” 

Peggy stopped walking and looked up at the late fall sky, as if beseeching the heavens for help.  “Angie, he’s an escort.”

Angie laughed.  “Steve?  No.  He’s a sweetheart.  I’ve never even seen him flirt with anyone.”

“Angie, yes,” Peggy said, deathly serious.  “He is.”

Angie was quiet for several moment.  “Oh my god, Peg.  What did you say?”

Peggy stammered.  “Well, I ... well, I mean.”  She stopped and took a breath.  “I do need someone to go with me to all of Michael’s bloody wedding events.  As you so aptly pointed out, if my mother gets so much as a whiff that I’m single, she will dedicate herself to the task of setting me up with any unattached male who she believes could further her social ambitions.”

“So you hired an escort?”

“I hired Steve.”

“Are you two gonna - “

“Oh my god, Angie.  Of course not.”  She sighed.  “Besides, he said a lot of his clients aren’t looking for that.”

“Clients?” Angie said.  “Oh my god, he is an escort.”

“Bloody hell,” Peggy said, deeply regretting the fact that she’d told Angie any of this.  “Look, I need a date.  He’s a warm body.  It’s a business transaction so I can avoid a lot of endless nagging from my family.  End of story.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy had been absolutely truthful when she said she was too busy to date.  Her career left little room for socializing.  She didn’t care to spend what miniscule free time she had trying to catch a man.  They always turned out to be a disappointment.  With Steve, there was simply none of that drama.

Despite all of Peggy’s assurances to Angie that her interactions with Steve were a business transaction, Peggy was still somewhat shocked at just how thorough the preparations were.  As much as Peggy wanted to back out of the arrangement every time she thought about what she was doing, there was no denying that Steve took his work very seriously.  And she was quickly coming to appreciate that.

He sent her an incredibly detailed questionnaire about what types of events they would be attending, the dress code, what level of physical contact was appropriate.  Steve already looked the part.  He was clean cut and favored a close shave.  It seemed that his intrinsic code of conduct favored toward the polite.  He was well mannered, and, as she was learning, well read.  He could definitely carry his end of a conversation with no trouble.

They formalized their cover story.  The best lies, Steve explained, were rooted in truth.  He said he learned that from someone named Natasha.  Peggy declined to ask who Natasha was.  She didn’t want to know.  This was a business relationship, nothing more.  But they stuck to the truth in that they met through a mutual friend, Angie.  The story was they’d been dating for about six months, and it was getting serious.  The rest of it was the truth.  He was an artist, she was a lawyer.  They both had busy schedules, so they hadn’t had the chance to vacation together, much less meet family.

Peggy reconsidered the entire arrangement when she saw Steve’s hourly rate for pretending to be her boyfriend.  But then she thought about the grilling she would get from her extended family if she came alone, or with a casual date.  The headache Steve could save her would be worth it.  And afterward, she would simply make up a story of a heart wrenching, but ultimately necessary, breakup.  The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea.  As a junior partner in the firm, she could afford Steve, if barely.

Peggy tried not to think about what his rate was for more than just companionship.  She was already on the line for any formal wear he might need.  As an artist, he didn’t own any.  She’d have to pay for the rentals - both Steve and the clothes.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve met her at a bar around the corner from Jack’s apartment.  He stood up as she walked in, and then helped her out of her coat.  The weather was abysmal, windy and unseasonably cold, even for November in New York.

“What are you drinking?” she asked.

He looked at his glass and shrugged.  “Uh, whatever they had on special.”

Just then, the bartender stopped by.  Peggy caught her eye.  “Hudson Single Malt, neat.”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Once you meet Jack, you’ll understand,” Peggy said with feeling.

“An ex?”

“God, no,” Peggy said, gratefully taking a sip of the whiskey.  “Coworker.  Wanker.”

“And yet, we’re going to his place for Thanksgiving.”

“For Thanksgiving cocktails,” Peggy said, offhand.  This wasn’t her holiday.  She certainly had no sentiment attached to the day.  She looked over at Steve, assessing him.  He looked good.   _ Really  _ good.  He was wearing a blue button down shirt.  The cuffs were rolled up, exposing his forearms.  She noted that his fingers were stained with ink.  He was also wearing a pair of dark jeans.  It was difficult to tell, given that he was sitting, but the fit looked good.

“Besides,” Peggy continued, forcing her attention back to the whiskey, “we need to take our serious relationship for a dry run in public.  Jack’s party is as good a place as any.”

Steve smiled at her.  

She patently ignored the way it made her feel.  “So tell me, Steve,” she said, trying to regain the upper hand, “why are you available for all of these engagements?  Cocktails on Thanksgiving, my brother’s wedding on Christmas Eve.”

Steve’s expression shuttered a bit and a small, slightly maudlin smile curved his lips.  “I’m an only child,” he said.  “Both my parents are gone, so holidays are pretty open.”

Peggy immediately regretted her words.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean - “

“It’s okay,” he said.  “They’ve been gone a long time.  And it’s not that I don’t have plans, it’s just that I can rearrange them if I need to.”

She wasn’t sure how to take that last statement, so she went fishing.  “No girlfriend to curl up with on Christmas morning?”

He laughed.  “Ah, no,” he said, shaking his head.  “I’m an old fashioned guy in that respect, I guess.”

Peggy frowned, leaning back in her chair, studying him as she took another sip.  “How so?”

He laughed again.  “I’m not going to accept ...  _ engagements _ like this one if I’m in a relationship with someone.”

She narrowed her eyes, watching him.  “Yes, but this is all for show,” she said, baiting him.  She was so curious, now, to know what his reasoning was.  Where was the line?  How was his contract with her so different from an improv workshop?

He shrugged, looking unconcerned.  “All the same, I won’t.”

Peggy was deeply unsatisfied with that answer, but it was clear that was all she was going to get on the subject.  They moved on to more benign topics as they finished their drinks.  Peggy finally decided that they couldn’t delay the inevitable, and they headed to Jack’s.

Steve took her coat when they entered Jack’s sprawling apartment.  As she looped her arm through Steve’s, he leaned down.  “Impressive.”

“Indeed,” Peggy said tightly.

Jack’s father was loaded.  This was actually the elder Thompson’s apartment.  He was one of the firm’s founding partners, but he had retired years ago and spent most of his days in tropical climes.  

The party was packed.  Peggy knew about half of the people present.  Steve stayed close.  He was attentive and personable.  He had a way of making people feel at ease.  Peggy didn’t miss the appreciative looks that were sent his way.  She’d been correct earlier.  The jeans did fit well.  His proportions were incredible.

As the evening progressed, the drinks flowed more liberally, and more people arrived.  It was an impressive turnout.  Peggy had to hand it to Jack, he knew how to throw a party.  Though she suspected that had more to do with Jack’s current girlfriend and less to do with Jack actually enjoying company.

Peggy was sitting in one of the barstools at the gargantuan marble kitchen island.  She leaned over to try and adjust her shoe and nearly toppled out of her chair.  Luckily, Steve’s arm around her waist steadied her.  She laughed, trying to cover, but was uneasy.  She hadn’t realized she’d had so much to drink.

“What if we step out on the terrace and get some air,” Steve offered.

Peggy nodded thankfully.

As it turned out, Steve’s shoulders were more than just ornamental.  He proved quite effective at clearing a path.  He was courteous, of course, but effective.   

The air outside was bracing, and even from their height, the traffic below was still perfectly audible.  There weren’t many people outside, only the truly dedicated vapers.  And one woman who was having an argument on her phone.

“Better?”

Peggy looked at Steve and nodded.  “Yes.  Thank you.”

He nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets.  

“I’m not typically like this,” she said.  “Don’t worry, don’t think you’re going to need to - “

“I don’t think anything,” Steve said, interrupting.  His expression was serious, but kind.  He shrugged.  “Really.  No judgment.”

Feeling inexplicably overwhelmed, she turned away, blinking quickly.  She stood there, breathing deeply.  She heard Steve go back inside.  She didn’t blame him.  This wasn’t in their contract.

It was at least ten minutes later.  Peggy couldn’t feel her toes anymore.  She was going to have to go back inside and find Steve.  As she turned, he was standing there, holding her coat out to her.  He must have gone to get it, and returned without her realizing.

She took the coat gratefully, slipping it on.  “Maybe we should call it a night.”

He nodded.  “If that’s what you want.”

“Indeed.”

He escorted her back through the apartment, once again, clearing a path.  She was still tipsy, but her head was much clearer.  They shared an Uber to Peggy’s apartment, and then Steve would catch a train to Brooklyn.

They didn’t talk in the car.  Steve was on his phone the entire time, obviously texting with someone.  Peggy had no idea who.  It was none of her business.  Maybe he had another engagement tonight.  Maybe he had an elderly aunt in California who liked to keep him abreast of her latest bridge game.

Before they parted ways, they confirmed the date and time for their next meeting.  It would be in three weeks.  There would be a small reception, hosted by Val, Michael’s fiancee’s, family.  It would be the first time Val’s parents met Peggy and Michael’s parents, and as such, bound to be fraught with tension.  Peggy was certain that her mother would be looking to offload as much of her anxiety as she could by picking at Peggy’s life choices.  The fewer openings Peggy could provide her with, the better.  Steve was merely one line of a multi layered defense Peggy had planned.

The farewells were all business, cordial, but not overly friendly.  Colleagues.  Nothing more.  

 

* * *

 

“Well?  How’d it go?”

Peggy screwed her eyes shut, cursing herself for answering the phone.  “What do you mean how did it go?  It was fine.  It was drinks at Jack’s place.”

“Yeah, but did ya - “

“I need someone to pretend to be my boyfriend, Angie,” Peggy snapped.  “I don’t need to get laid.”

“That’s debatable.”

“Oh shove off,” Peggy said.  “I have a killer hangover.”

“Remember we’re going to the movies at three.”

“I hate you.”

“Your turn to buy popcorn.”

 

* * *

 

The following Monday, Peggy took a break from Cyber Monday shopping - she still needed to find a present for Michael and Val - and looked at the text message.

> Do you need these?

There was a picture of her favorite pair of earrings.  Peggy had foggy memories of taking them off while she’d been sitting at Jack’s kitchen island.  Apparently Steve had them, which was convenient.  The earrings had been a gift, and were, by far, the most expensive piece of jewelry she owned.  It would have been a shame to have lost them.  But Peggy hadn’t even noticed they were missing.  That wasn’t like her.

She looked at the text.  She still wasn’t sure what she thought about Steve Rogers.  There was certainly more to him than she’d thought after their first meeting.  To her shock, she enjoyed his company.  And while their relationship was absolutely a work of fiction, she was starting to like him quite a bit.  She looked forward to interacting with him.

She intended to text him back something terse and formal.  Her fingers had ideas of their own.

> I don’t need the back this moment.  Why?  Do you want to borrow them?  I don’t think the gold suits you.  You’re cool toned.  You’d look better in silver.

When there was no reply, Peggy wondered if she’d overplayed her hand.  Steve was trying to be courteous, as usual.  She shouldn’t have teased him.  Perhaps he didn’t think she was funny.

> Platinum, actually.  

Peggy laughed.  Before she could respond, Steve texted again.

> I’m in the neighborhood of your office tomorrow.  I can drop them off if you want.

Before Peggy could think better of it, she replied.

> Yes, I’ll meet you.

 

* * *

 

There was a small courtyard across from Peggy’s office building.  The weather had been terrible for weeks, but this day was actually lovely.  It was sunny and not too cold.  The courtyard was enclosed by a high brick wall covered with (now dead) ivy, which made the setting feel slightly more intimate than it was.  There were a handful of other people, ostensibly enjoying the weather, most of them hunched over their phones.

Steve arrived, wearing a worn, brown leather jacket.  He was carrying a cardboard mailing tube.  He’d mentioned he needed to stop off a custom illustration he’d done, which is why he was in the area.  He took a seat on the bench next to Peggy, and handed her the earrings.

“Thank you,” she said, taking them, and slipping them into her ears.

She didn’t miss how carefully he watched her.  He swallowed thickly.  “No problem.”

Peggy was painfully aware of the fact that it was good to see him.  The realization made her uncomfortable.  She needed to get out more.  With people she wasn’t paying to spend time with her.

Thankfully, Steve didn’t seem to be having any such internal crisis.  He smiled at her easily.  “Want to see my commission?”

She arched an eyebrow at him.  “Is that what you’re calling it now?”

He snorted, but opened the mailing tube and removed the piece of heavy paper.  The colors were incredible.  

Peggy just blinked at it for several seconds.  “It’s a - “

“A dog,” he said, matter of factly.  “A golden retriever, Ted, dressed in the same naval uniform that Russel Crowe wore in that movie Master and Commander.”

Peggy looked at him.  “Why?”

He shrugged.  “Hell if I know.”  He rolled the print up and put it back in the mailer.  “But it mostly pays the bills.”

She frowned at him.  “Does it?”

“It’s surprisingly lucrative.”

“Wow.”

“I know.”

Peggy was quiet for several moments and then said, “So dogs in naval uniforms or - “

“Any setting, really,” he said.  “The naval uniform was actually a first.”  He gave her a very serious look.  “Human creativity knows few bounds.”

That much, Peggy had no trouble believing.

 

* * *

 

Thursday afternoon, Peggy made the mistake of taking the call.

“Not to put too fine a point on it,” Edwin Jarvis said, “but you owe me.”

Peggy, who had only half been paying attention, stopped trying to read the brief and said, “What?”

“The Stark gala,” he said, sounding put upon in that way that only her countrymen could truly master.  “Ana is out of town unexpectedly and I will not go amongst those jackals by myself.  I need a date.  And you owe me.”

Peggy didn’t bother to ask him why she owed him.  Truthfully, the laundry list would shame both of them.  “When is it?”

“Saturday night,” he said.  “Formal.  It’s being held at the Met.”

Peggy’s schedule was a nightmare.  And her parents would be in town next week.  She’d been so looking forward to having this weekend to try and unwind, though she knew she’d probably spend it working.  “Are you certain - “

“You  _ owe _ me.”

Peggy sighed.  “Send me the details.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy considered texting Steve, mostly to take her mind off the evening ahead, but decided against it.  They’d traded texts all week.  Little things.  Ridiculous humor.  Steve would send her pictures of things he found interesting.  They were definitely friendly.  Maybe even friends.

But it couldn’t be more than that.  Peggy didn’t have the time - or, she feared, the capacity - for any type of relationship more demanding than the most casual acquaintance.  Some people just didn’t work that way.  She was one of them.

She stepped out of the car and made her way up the steps and into the the great hall of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  It was teeming with people, all in formal dress.  She scanned the crowd and easily spotted Mr. Jarvis, who was looking rather harried.  She could see him visibly relax as he caught sight of her.

The fundraiser was a ridiculous affair, with a guest list in the thousands.  It attracted titans of industry, hollywood moguls, politicians, artists, celebrities of every flavor.  It was Howard Stark’s charity, of course.  But Mr. Jarvis was left handling the logistics of the event.  Typically such a task would be all in a day’s work, but this event, in particular, meant being front and center, which he abhorred.

“Ah, yes, Ms. Carter,” Mr. Jarvis said with obvious relief as she came to stand next to him.

“Shall we?” she said, taking his arm.

With a nod, he ushered her toward the Egyptian wing.

People were milling everywhere.  There were several open bars, as well as wait staff circling with platters of cocktails, wine, and hors d'oeuvres.  Peggy accepted a glass of sparkling wine, but only took a sip.  Last weekend’s hangover was still too fresh in her mind for her to imbibe freely, not to mention the hem on the dress she was wearing.

As if following her line of thought, she caught Mr. Jarvis glancing at her dress, or rather, at where she was strategically lacking dress.  He met her gaze, pursing his lips together.  “Leger?”

“No,” she said, “Suzanne Neville is the designer.”

Mr. Jarvis nodded.  “Bold choice.”

Peggy took a drink of her wine.  Colleen was a stylist, and she could work wonders.  On such short notice, she definitely had.  Though the formal gown was decidedly bolder than Peggy would have preferred.

The black halter dress was highly architectural, with a keyhole detail that was more of a bay window, and left her entire chest bare, to nearly her navel, save for a simple sheer modesty panel near her waist.  She had a scandalous amount of cleavage on display.  She prayed she didn’t run into any of the partners from the firm.  Her tits looked great, thanks in part to the duct tape under the dress holding everything in place.  Peggy did not relish the thought of undressing at the end of the night.  

The dress’s skirt was full, with slits that exposed both legs to the tops of her thighs.  And the hem was just slightly too long meaning she was wearing a ridiculously high pair of heels in an attempt to avoid tripping over her skirts

“Where are we going?” Peggy asked.

“To see William.”

Peggy’s heart sank.  Oh no.  He wasn’t trying to set her up.  “William?”

Mr. Jarvis sniffed.  “The museum’s mascot.  William is a faience hippopotamus that dates from the reigns of Senwosret I and Senwosret II.”

“Pardon?”

Mr. Jarvis stopped walking and looked at her.  “He’s a little blue hippo statue.”

“Oh, well, lead on.”

Having spent a considerable portion of her formative years at the British Museum, Peggy wasn’t exactly gobsmacked by the Met.  But it was an impressive collection.  She’d been in New York for years, but somehow had never really made time to explore the collections here.  She tended to prefer the Museum of Modern Art, or the Cooper-Hewitt, or even the American Museum of Natural History - she loved the scale model blue whale.  

The Met’s Egyptian collection, in particular, seemed to be a labyrinthine set of interconnecting rooms, all with lighting dimmed for the event.  Mr. Jarvis, as always, was a font of information.  Peggy realized how relaxing it was to be with someone she shared a wealth of camaraderie, but absolutely no physical chemistry.

Though that did throw her interactions with Steve into an interesting light.  She chose not to explore it at that moment.

“And here,” Mr. Jarvis said, with a flourish, as they turned a corner, “is the Temple of Dendur.”

Peggy was momentarily awestruck.  The space was enormous, and open.  The north wall and portions of the ceiling were glass, and directly in front of where Peggy and Mr. Jarvis stood was a large reflecting pool, on the far side of which stood the Temple of Dendur.  The temple was lit dramatically, making the space even more captivating than it would have been by daylight.

“Impressive isn’t it?” Mr. Jarvis said.

“Indeed,” Peggy managed.

Many of the gala guests had made their way here, but despite the size of the room, and the amount of people, there was something about the lighting and the configuration that gave it an intimate feel.  Peggy made a mental note to return some time soon to see it properly by daylight.

For reasons Peggy couldn’t have explained, she turned and looked over her shoulder.  And found her gaze locked with Steve’s.  He was standing perhaps a dozen meters away, drink in his right hand, left hand resting easily at the waist of his date.  

Peggy felt a shock go through her, at the same time Steve’s eyes went wide, and he looked alarmed.

Taking a deep breath, Peggy took a quick mental inventory of Steve’s date.  She seemed to be about Peggy’s height, probably about Peggy’s age as well.  She had dark, artfully messy hair, and very understated makeup.  She was wearing a navy blue tailored suit, with heels.  She wore nothing beneath the suit jacket, but she didn’t have Peggy’s proportions.  The jacket closed with a single button, but it managed to not show very much skin.  Steve complimented his date, in black formalwear.  The cut gave away the fact that it was a rental.

Following Peggy’s line of sight, Mr. Jarvis leaned over.  “Oh, I see you’ve caught the eye of Ms. Hill.”

Peggy glanced at Jarvis and then looked back at Steve’s date, realizing that she was, indeed, looking at Peggy.  “Ms. Hill?” she said quietly to Mr. Jarvis.

“Maria Hill.  She’s sort of ...  _ me _ for one of Mr. Stark’s business associates, Mr. Fury.  It’s important that SHIELD put on a good showing at events like this.  Mr. Fury must have been unavailable.”

Peggy took that all under consideration.  “Is that her usual companion?”

Mr. Jarvis narrowed his eyes, frowning.  “I’ve seen him with her on multiple occasions, though I can’t remember his name.”

“It’s okay,” Peggy said.  She already knew his name.

Mr. Jarvis arched an eyebrow at her.

Frowning, Peggy once again took Mr. Jarvis’s arm and urged him to continue the tour.  After the Temple of Dendur the rest of what they saw was a bit of a let down.  Or perhaps she was just thrown by seeing Steve.

Steve told her that he didn’t date while he was working with clients, which meant that Maria Hill, like Peggy, was one of his clients.  A long term client, from the sound of it.  Peggy doubted that Mr. Jarvis and Ms. Hill had much occasion to be in one another’s company, especially where they were required to have a date.  Conservatively, Steve had been working with her for years.

Logically, Peggy understood it was completely reasonable for Steve to have long term clients.

It shocked her how much she hated seeing him with his hand around Maria Hill’s waist.

Not that it was different when Peggy was with Steve.  Their relationship was a business arrangement, nothing more.

So why did it feel this way?

Peggy and Mr. Jarvis eventually made it to the Medieval Sculpture Hall, where many of the important patrons were gathered.  There were a lot of beautiful tables set up, and people seemed to be having a good time.  Mr. Jarvis was called away to deal with some crisis, and Peggy made her way to the bar.

She was waiting on her gin and tonic when she became aware of someone standing slightly too close.  She didn’t bother looking at him.  “Hello, Steve, how are you enjoying the event?”

“I didn’t realize you would be here,” he said, his tone tight.

“And I didn’t realize you would be here,” she replied, taking her drink from the bartender.  “I guess we’re even.”

She could hear him take a deep breath.  “You look ... fantastic.”

“Thank you,” she said dispassionately.  She looked around the room.  “This is actually the first time I’ve been here.”  She glanced at him.  “Shameful I know.  I’ve never seemed to make the time.”

Steve nodded.  “I’m here at least once a month.  I get a student discount.”

“What’s your favorite part?”

He frowned, seeming to try and decide if she was making fun of him.  He finally said, “I really liked the costume exhibit they had, but it’s gone.”  He shrugged.  “After that, probably the Frank Lloyd Wright room in the American Wing.”

“They have a room dedicated to Wright?”

“Sort of,” Steve said.  “It’s actually the living room from one of the houses he built in Minnesota.  They installed it in the Met, and now it has a view of Central Park.”  He took a deep breath.  “But if you’re asking me about my favorite museum, it’s the natural history museum.”

She smiled and looked at him.  “But you’re an artist.”

He shrugged.  “I know, but they have a scale model of a blue whale.  I’ve loved that thing since I was a kid.”

Peggy opened her mouth to reply, but they were rudely interrupted.

“Peggy!”

Peggy suppressed a groan as Howard tried to pull her close and give her a kiss.  She fended him off, due in no small part to years of practice.  She introduced Steve and Howard, watching as they openly sized each other up.

“What’s going on, Peg?” Howard cajoled.  “You refused my invitation, but you showed up with Jarvis.”

Peggy crossed her arms over her chest, which did nothing for the lines of her dress, but fuck it.  “You didn’t invite me, Howard.”

He frowned.  “Only because I knew you’d refuse,” he said sourly.  “A man has his pride.”

Peggy rolled her eyes.

“It’s true, Peg,” he said, giving her a hard look.  “You’re a tough cookie.”

“That hasn’t been my experience,” Steve said, moving ever so slightly closer to Peggy.

She had to bite back a smile.

Howard opened his mouth to say something, but they were all saved when his date literally threw herself at him, giggling madly as she wrapped herself around him.  “There you are!” she yelled, triumphant.

“Indeed, my dear,” Howard crooned, his good humor restored.  “Here I am.”

Steve and Peggy watched as Howard and his date left.  Peggy was painfully aware that her evening would not be ending in a similar fashion.  But perhaps Steve’s would.

Peggy let out a breath, leaning back against the bar.  She glanced at Steve.  “Where’s your date?”

“She had to take a call.”

“And what kind of arrangement do you and she have, exactly?” Peggy asked.  “Does she have you for the entire night?”  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she winced, hating herself for having said them.  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.  “That wasn’t fair.”

“No,” Steve agreed.  “It wasn’t.”

She looked at him.  

His expression was grim, his jaw tight.  “And regardless of what the answer is, none of it is your business.”

She nodded and raised her glass to him.  “Touche.  Again, I apologize.”

He sighed, and she could almost feel the frustration rolling off him in waves.   “Peggy - “

“It’s all right, Steve,” she said, forcing a smile.  “Really.  It’s perfectly fine.  We’re all adults.  Have a lovely evening.”  As she started to step away, Steve gently touched her elbow.  She stopped, looking back at him.

“It’s not - “ he started, and then fell silent.  He took a deep breath.  “She wants ... your number.”

Peggy frowned.  “Who?”

“Maria,” he said.  “My date.  She wants your number.”

Peggy was still frowning.  “For what?”  Did she need a lawyer?

He gave Peggy a meaningful look.  

“ _ Oh _ ,” she said, feeling like an idiot.

Steve dragged a hand through his hair.  “I told her I’d talk to you, see if you were interested.”

“So you didn’t ... tell her that you know me?”

He frowned.  “Of course not.”

“Ah, well,” Peggy said, at a loss.  It wasn’t that Maria Hill wasn’t attractive.  Another time, perhaps Peggy would be interested.  But with Steve being an intermediary, there was no way.  “I’m flattered, really, but I’m too busy to have a relationship with anyone.”

Steve just nodded.  

Truly, Peggy had no idea if he was pleased, or irritated, with her answer.  Not that it mattered.  “Goodnight, Steve.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy had been trading texts with Steve about what he was going to wear to the reception where Peggy’s parents were going to meet Val’s parents.  Peggy understood that she was reaching a ridiculous level of involvement in Steve’s clothes, but she also knew her mother, and knew how she would pick at everything associated with Peggy.

She looked at her phone.

> Just come over and look at my closet.  I’m not sending you any more pictures.

Peggy emphatically did not have time to go all the way out to Brooklyn and look at Steve’s closet.  But she didn’t have any better options.  The few photos he’d sent of possible outfits had been completely unhelpful to her.  And she couldn’t very well ask him to pack up all his clothes and bring them to her place - or she could, but she wouldn’t.

So Peggy grabbed her coat and purse and dropped off a conference call that she really needed to be on.

> I’m on my way to your place.  Order a pizza.  I’m starving.

 

* * *

 

Steve buzzed Peggy up.  She was absolutely shocked at where he lived.  The building was older, but it was in good repair.  It looked considerably nicer than she assumed someone who subsisted off dog portraits could afford.  She passed two people in the stairwell, an old woman with a grocery cart, and a twenty something hipster with a cat on a leash.  Clearly the building occupants were an eclectic bunch.  She knocked on Steve’s door.

While the sight of Steve in a white tanktop, stained jeans, and nothing else, was distracting, the glance at the apartment beyond was truly shocking.  As soon as he stepped aside, Peggy walked in and looked around.  His apartment was easily three times the size of her place in Manhattan - maybe even bigger, it was hard to tell with all the junk.

She looked at him, astounded.  “How do you afford this?”

He stood there, methodically drying his hands on a towel.  “I’ve lived here since I was a kid.  My grandparents bought an apartment when the building was new.  Parents bought the apartment next door when they got married.  When my grandparents died, they left their place to my parents.  They combined them into one big apartment, and left it to me.”  He shrugged.  “Neighborhood used to be rough.  Before gentrification.  Now the property values are through the roof, along with the taxes.”

The apartment was gorgeous.  Original woodwork and glass.  It was obvious that Steve used the main living room of the apartment as a studio.  It was a mess, but the bones of the place were beautiful.  Reaching out, she reverently touched some of the wood molding.

She glanced at him.  “Do you have roommates?”

He shook his head.  “I have in the past, but no.  It’s a stretch financially, but I prefer living alone.  Fewer people to complain about the mess.”

Narrowing her eyes, she watched him.  No rent would be appealing.  But she believed that the taxes on this place were murder.  Despite his charm and openness, Steve Rogers was a solitary creature.

“The pizza should be here in about twenty minutes.  You want to see the clothes?”

“Lead the way.”

She followed Steve through the apartment into what was presumably his bedroom.  It looked like it was probably the bedroom he’d used his entire life, with the occasional childhood artifact (mostly dinosaurs) shoved in a corner.  

His bed was unmade, the covers rumpled.  The pillows were strewn about, but as far as she could tell, it looked like there was only one person sleeping there.  She tried not to think about that.

He walked into his closet and started pulling out shirts on hangers, laying them out on the bed.  She was glad she’d made the trip.  The two shirts that had looked promising in his pictures were abysmal in person.  

She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest.  She glanced at his closet.  “May I?”

He shook his head, obviously amused.  “Whatever you want.”

She looked through his closet, which consisted mainly of t-shirts and henleys.  What was his fascination with spandex?  However, she did find one sweater.  It was nice, and looked like it had hardly been worn.  It was a deep blue.  She held it out to him.  “What about this?”

He shrugged, and grabbed the hem of his tanktop, pulling it over his head.

Peggy bit back a curse.  Jesus.  She knew he had a good body, but christ.  His chest was a work of art, and his abs were a close second.  Clearing her throat, she said, “I would have stepped out.”

He snorted and took the sweater from her.  “Please.  You were showing more chest than this the other night at the Stark gala.” He didn’t see her outraged expression, on account of the fact that he was pulling the sweater over his head.  He tugged it into place and looked at her.  “Do I pass muster?”

She looked him up and down.  It was a bit more casual than she’d been hoping for, but it would do.  She nodded.  “Indeed.”

“Great,” he said, and immediately tugged the sweater off, tossing it onto the bed.

There was a knock at the door and Steve jogged to answer it, bare from the waist up.  Shaking her head, Peggy followed.  He was tipping the delivery guy as Peggy walked into the living room.  From the look on the delivery boy’s face, she suspected that Steve’s lack of attire was more than worth the cost of delivery.

Steve certainly didn’t seem to have an issue with modesty.  He found paper plates and a roll of paper towels, and set the pizza on the coffee table.  Peggy excused herself to wash her hands.  It had been a long day, but she still looked presentable, if overdressed for the surroundings.

Steve had turned on the TV.  Peggy sat down and took a piece of pizza.  She glanced over at him.  “Antiques Roadshow?”

“Shhh,” he said, not looking at her.  He handed her a beer.

“Are you serious?  You watch Antiques Roadshow?”

He took a bite of pizza, and then talked to her out of one side of his mouth. “Look around at all this crap.  I could be a millionaire and not know it.”

Peggy looked around the apartment.  Indeed, it appeared that he had inherited all of his parents’ and grandparents’ belongings without bothering to sort through any of it.  However, she found it far more likely that he was going to find himself with a case of tetanus before he found hidden treasure.

Between the two of them, they polished off the pizza, all the beer, and what was left of a bottle of Scotch.  They moved on from competitive antiquing, to an ostensible documentary series about people building homes in the Alaskan wilderness.  Peggy would never understand the appeal of digging one’s own latrine.

Full of pizza and booze, Peggy was feeling considerably more relaxed.  She was slouched down on Steve’s couch, covered up with her own coat.  Steve, who was likewise slouching, looked over at her.  “So you’re pretty nervous about seeing your mom, huh?”

Peggy considered her answer.  “Amanda is very ... exacting.”

He frowned.  “Yeah, but it’s your brother’s wedding, right?  Shouldn’t the bride be the one who’s worried.”

“Oh Michael could never do any wrong in Mother’s eyes,” Peggy said.  “And ever since I broke things off with Freddie, I can’t do anything right.”

Steve was quiet for a moment, but then cautiously said, “Freddie?”

Peggy shook her head and looked away.  “I was engaged, right out of school.  It was a terrible idea.  We were a bad match.  I finally had the sense to see that and called it off.  Mother ... didn’t agree.”

Steve nodded.  “Seemed to have worked out for you though,” he said.  “You’re living in New York, a top lawyer at one of the best firms in town.”

“Trust me,” Peggy said wryly, “moving to America didn’t win me any points in her book either.  I’m forever a disappointment.”

Steve frowned and canted his head to the side, like he couldn’t quite make sense of her words.  “You’re an amazing woman.”

Peggy arched an eyebrow, but said nothing.  Shaking her head, she looked away.  With a sigh, she pushed herself to her feet.  “I should be going.  Thanks for letting me rifle through your closet and treat you like a giant paperdoll.”

Steve was still frowning, but he nodded.  “Yeah.”

Peggy excused herself and went to the bathroom, making sure she was composed.  She hadn’t meant to be so forthright.  She certainly hadn’t meant to mention Freddie.  She splashed some water on her face and took a deep breath.  She was tipsy, but far from drunk.

When she returned to the living room, Steve had finally found a shirt, and shoes.  He helped her with her coat and then walked her downstairs, standing with her in the entryway as she waited for the car.  He was quiet, unobtrusive, but - maybe it was just her imagination - but he also seemed protective.

Feeling reckless and restless, Peggy looked at him.  There was something about Steve, something that caused her to say things she shouldn’t say, and do things she shouldn’t do.  He was literally the last person she needed to bring with her to meet her mother.  But she felt so drawn to him, for a million reasons she couldn’t articulate.  She was shit with emotions.  That’s what Michael had always said.  

But she was great with negotiations.

Peggy broke the silence, saying, “What if I want to change the terms of our agreement?”

Steve locked eyes with her, his brow furrowed.  He looked wary.  “Change them how?”

She took a deep breath and then licked her lips.  “What if I want to add provisions for sex?  You said that’s something you do for clients.”

He looked at her, holding her gaze.  She could feel heat flooding her cheeks and chest, and venturing to parts farther south.  She couldn’t read his expression at all.  Was he shocked?  Repulsed?  Calculating how much he had left on his yearly taxes?  The moment seemed to stretch out interminably.

Finally, Steve took a deep breath and shook his head.  “No.”

Peggy scoffed, her head snapping back.  What kind of negotiation was this?  “No?”

“No,” he repeated flatly.

“Well,” she started in a huff, searching for more articulate words, but not finding them, “why not?”

Slowly, he stepped nearer.  It wasn’t aggressive, but it certainly demanded her attention.  She was painfully aware of how close he was.  She remembered all too well how he looked without a shirt, how his bedroom had smelled.  She thought of his rumpled sheets, and had a vision of her nails clawing down his back as she writhed in pleasure.  She had to tilt her head to look him in the eye.

When he spoke, his voice was low, gravelly.  “When I make love to you, it isn’t going to be because you’re paying me.”

Peggy’s insides clenched tightly at his words.  It wasn’t a negotiation.  It was a promise.  And one she wanted him to make good on, right now.  He was watching her intently.  He was so close she could feel the heat radiating off his body.  She licked her lips, and he leaned in.  Her chest hurt, she couldn’t get enough air.

Abruptly, he stepped back, dragging a hand through his hair.  “Your car’s here.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy was running late, as usual.  She texted Steve.

> I’ll meet you at Grand Central.

She was supposed to leave work at noon, so she would have time to go home, shower, change, mentally prepare to see her mother.  But she got stuck in a series of endless meetings.  She finally walked out in the middle of one, ten minutes past the time she was supposed to meet Steve.

Thankfully, he was exactly where he said he’d be, perfectly groomed, freshly shaved, jaw like granite, wearing the sweater she’d picked out, and carrying a bottle of wine -  _ shit, how had she forgot the gift? _

“I owe you,” Peggy said gratefully.

“Later,” Steve said, usher her toward the platform, “or we’re going to miss this one.”

The train was packed, standing room only.  Peggy didn’t even pretend to be mindful of Steve’s personal space.  She just leaned into him to avoid being jostled by the crowd as she attempted to make her hair and face halfway presentable.  For his part, Steve wrapped an arm around her waist and held her to him, pretending not to notice as she applied deodorant in the middle of a crowded train.

He leaned down, his lips against the shell of her ear.  “How long have your parents been in town?”

She sighed and looked up at him.  “They arrived the day before yesterday.  I haven’t seen them yet.”

He nodded, looking unsurprised.

They managed to make it to the party without being horribly late.  Peggy’s outfit left quite a bit to be desired, but it would have to do.  Most of the guests had already arrived.  Peggy was grateful to have missed the initial meeting of the families.  She was certain it was icily polite.  She couldn’t imagine any other possible outcome.  

The reception was mostly informal  - she suspected her mother hated that.  It was hosted in a private room at a very nice little boutique hotel in Manhattan.  The guest list was small, limited mostly to immediate family and the bridal party.  Val’s family seemed absolutely lovely.  Warm and boisterous.  They obvious loved and liked each other immensely.  Val was one of five children, and all of them were present.

It was quite a contrast to the tightly controlled Carters.  The moment Peggy locked eyes with her mother, she got a disapproving frown.  Peggy forced a smile and leaned over, giving Amanda an air kiss.  “Mother.”

“Margaret,” Amanda replied curtly.

As usual, Peggy received a considerably warmer reception from her father.  Then, dutifully, she introduced Steve as her serious boyfriend.  Steve played his part masterfully, being attentive and charming, stopping just short of outright flirting with Amanda.  Peggy expected her mother to be appalled, but she wasn’t.  She  _ liked _ it.  Steve even got Amanda to smile and laugh, something that truly shocked Peggy.

As Steve was escorting Peggy to a seat, she whispered at him, “She  _ blushed _ .  I didn’t think that was possible.  She’s so bloodless, I would have thought the effort would cause her to pass out.”

Steve bit back a smile.  “That’s an exaggeration.”

“Barely,” Peggy said, taking the glass of wine Steve handed her. 

They were seated at a table with Joanna, one of Val’s bridesmaids, and her partner, Leanne.  Also at the table was Val’s brother Dwayne, and his wife Pooja.  Dwayne would be the one paired with Peggy in the procession.  Everyone seemed nice, if a bit harried.  Clearly this time of year was already packed with social obligations and sticking a wedding right into the middle of it complicated matters, especially for people like Dwayne and Pooja, who had three small children.  Peggy hoped for a moment that the kids were there, but was quickly informed they were with a sitter.  Knowing her mother, she probably stipulated that children weren’t welcome.  God forbid there be children at a wedding.  How improper.

Peggy was shocked at how little Amanda interfered throughout the night.  Steve was already worth his weight in gold for that alone.  Amanda definitely sent speculative glances their way, but there was none of the incessant asides or constructive criticism that Peggy typically equated with her mother’s presence.

Peggy was able to actually relax.  She caught up with her brother, and was delighted to see Val again.  They really did seem disgustingly happy with one another.

Peggy felt like she and Steve put on a convincing display of a committed couple.  They laughed and talked.  Lots of casual touches.  

Michael seemed to have some reservations about Steve.  All out of Steve’s earshot, of course.  Eventually Val told him to be quiet and leave Peggy alone, for which Peggy was grateful.  Michael knew her better than anyone.  She supposed it only made sense that he could see through the act.

As she was collecting her coat so she and Steve could leave, Michael caught her.  His expression was soft and concerned.  “Just be careful, okay?”

She tried to give him a reassuring smile.  “Why are you so worried?”

He took a deep breath.  “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you like this with anyone.  A really long time.”

Pushing up on her toes, Peggy pressed a kiss to his cheek.  “I’m fine, Michael.  But thank you for caring.  I’ll talk to you soon.”

 

* * *

 

When Steve and Peggy walked outside, it was snowing.  The air was still, and it wasn’t particularly cold.  The snowflakes were huge and the entire scene was incredibly picturesque.

Steve held out his arm and despite the fact that they didn’t need to perform for anyone, Peggy looped hers through his as they walked.  Peggy didn’t have anywhere to be.  She didn’t know about Steve, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry.

“That went pretty well,” he finally said.

Peggy nodded.  “I’m beginning to wonder if my mother is on medication.”

“What kind of medication?”

“Animal tranquilizers, one presumes.”

Steve laughed.  “She’s not that bad.”

“Oh, she is.  Trust me.”  Taking a deep breath, Peggy said, “Thank you.  Really.  This was easily a thousand times more enjoyable than I anticipated.”

He nodded.  “Sure.”

She looked at him and she could tell that he wanted to say more.  “Go on,” she said.  “I know that look well.  What do you want to say?”

He frowned and shook his head.  “I don’t understand why you’re single.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Seriously,” he said.  “I mean, I get it’s a choice on your part. I’m just not sure why.”

“I’m busy,” she said, shrugging.

He looked at her, his brows pinched together.  “You use your job as an excuse not to get close to people.  You don’t have time.”  He shrugged.  “No one has time.  But they make time.  It’s how we work.  You create space in your life for the things that are important.”

She pressed her lips together, stung.  That was the heart of it, wasn’t it.  But who was he to judge?  “And what about you?” she countered.  “Isn’t that what you’re doing too?  You have all these rules about not dating while you’re working with clients.  But you’re always working with clients.  It’s a catch-22.  It means you never have to commit to anyone either.  You never have to look for anyone, or have a real connection.”

She expected to get a rise out of him, but mostly he just looked sad.

“Yeah,” he said.  “That’s true.”  He took a deep breath.  “For a long time, that worked really well for me.”

“And now?” she prompted.

He looked at her.  “Now I’m not sure.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy and Steve’s texting dropped off after their talk following the reception.  It felt like they were standing on the edge of something.  And neither of them had the guts to jump, or the cowardice to crawl back from the edge.  

So they were stuck.

It was two weeks to the wedding.  She’d definitely see him then.  Sooner, actually.  She’d have to meet him to make sure the tux was tailored correctly - and at her cost.  He was still on her payroll, after all.

She wanted to be pissed at Steve, but she couldn’t even do that.  He hadn’t done anything except ask her some questions.  Ones she didn’t want to ask herself.  Usually she was great at avoiding introspection of that type.  But now, more and more with Steve in her life, it was becoming an issue.  How was it that a strictly platonic business arrangement was tying her up in knots like this?

It wasn’t helping that her mother was texting her three times a day to ask about Steve.

And then there was the issue of Val’s hen party.  It was scheduled for the coming Saturday.  It would kick off with a pub crawl, followed by lord only knew what.  Val’s best friend and maid of honor, Topaz, was in charge.  Peggy had kicked in her money for the event, but she wasn’t particularly looking forward to it.

 

* * *

 

“I ... what?” Peggy said, looking at Pooja as she took the proffered sash while she climbed onto the barstool.  It was a bright purple sash, emblazoned with “Bridesmaid”, which Peggy was apparently supposed to wear.  It has an accompanying plastic headband that read “Team Bride.”

Pooja just shrugged, looking as unimpressed as Peggy felt.  Pooja had a sash too.  Hers said “Off the Market”.  She had a matching headband as well.

“I hate everyone,” Peggy said under her breath.

“Right,” Pooja agreed.

Val seemed to be enjoying herself.  Peggy honestly couldn’t tell if it was legitimate, or if she was just putting on a good show.  She had a white sash that read “Bride to Be” in rhinestones, and a huge frilly headband that looked like a white wedding veil.

There were at least fifteen people in their party.  Bridesmaids, significant others, and some of Val’s friends.  It was only seven and they were starting their pubcrawl.

Peggy didn’t miss that Topaz was wearing a discreet sticker that read “Maid of Honor”, and there was no headband in sight.

“Who’s ready for the first round?” someone called.

“Over here,” Peggy bellowed.

 

* * *

 

Peggy looked up as Dwayne settled into the booth next to Pooja.  Peggy kicked Pooja lightly under the table.

“What?” Pooja asked with badly feigned innocence.

They’d all been drinking for hours.  Peggy wasn’t completely shitfaced, but everyone in the party was lit.  Topaz had been adamant in her planning that this was a girls’ night out party, strictly for celebrating Val’s waning days as a single woman.  Emphasis on  _ single.   _ Which was great.  Except that Joanna and Leanne were a couple and by the third bar, they were making out with zero consideration for the rest of the party.  Apparently everyone felt a little left out.  By the next bar, significant others were starting to show up en masse.

Michael had been waiting for them at this bar.  Val had been absolutely delighted.  Peggy was grossed out and purposely sitting with her back to the beautiful couple.

“Let me see the picture again,” Jen, another of the bridesmaids said to Peggy.  

Peggy unlocked her phone and handed it over again.  “Why do you need to keep looking at that picture?”

“No reason,” Jen said.

Peggy rolled her eyes.  She looked at Pooja, waiting for her and Dwayne to come up for air.  As soon as they did she said, “What’s our next stop?”

“The Museum of Sex,” Pooja said.

“Seriously?”

Pooja nodded.

“Fuck.”

 

* * *

 

The giftshop at the Museum of Sex was unbelievably crowded for a Saturday night.  Peggy figured the reasons were twofold.  First, the novelty of their wares - Christmas was just around the corner, after all.  And second, visiting the giftshop didn’t require paying the exorbitant admission fee.

As Peggy went to stand in line to get her ticket, someone spoke nearly into her ear, “I already got your ticket.”

Peggy spun around, ready to attack, only to see Steve.  She blinked at him.  “What are you doing here?”

He looked her up and down.  “Nice outfit.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, no doubt getting glitter from that damn sash all over the place.  “Why are you here?”

He looked exasperated.  “You texted me and told me to meet you.”

“I did not.”

He held out his phone.  She looked at it, and then pulled out her own phone and compared.  The texts had, indeed, been sent from her phone.  She looked around and caught sight of Jen standing near the bar.  Jen smiled unrepentantly and waved at Steve.  

“Oh my God,” Peggy cursed.  “I didn’t text you.  She did.”

He shrugged.  “Well, I’m here now.”

Steve was right, he was there.  And there was really no way to get rid of him, especially in light of how many other significant others had showed up.  He held out his hand and Peggy took it.  As the others started heading into the museum, they followed.

The Museum of Sex was obviously meant to scandalize and titillate.  Peggy couldn’t make out what the rest of their agenda was, or what the thought process behind the curation of the collections seemed to be.

The first room was a random assortment of sex toys, sex dolls, VD prevention kits from WWII, a bicycle powered boning machine.  Some of it was amusing, some bizarre.  The sex dolls made Peggy feel unexpectedly depressed.  

“Moving on,” Peggy said, heading down the hall, with Steve following.

“Is that ..” Steve started, as they entered the next room.

“A boob bounce house, apparently,” Peggy said.

Their eyes locked.  Steve looked at the bounce house again, far more apprehensive than intrigued.  “Are you going to - “

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Quite a few of the wedding party were, indeed, bouncing.  And posing for endless raunchy pictures.  Peggy decided it was best not to stay and watch the carnage.  As she turned, she caught sight of Michael and Val in a dark corner, and quickly looked away.  She grabbed a fistful of Steve’s shirt and tugged him along with her to the next exhibit.

The next exhibit turned out to be animal sex.  In an incredibly well lit room.  With lifesize replicas of mating animals of various types, and lurid pictures, juxtaposed with incredibly dry text that someone had obviously copied straight out of a field guide.

“I am not nearly drunk enough for this,” Peggy muttered.

“Me either,” Steve agreed.

The next exhibit was at least darker.  Again, the collection seemed a bit slapdash.  The overall theme seemed to be vintage, though that apparently encompassed any time period from the Greeks to the 1970s.  

They had vintage erotic postcards from the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.  Peggy did find that interesting.  Steve seemed to as well.  The photographic images were often more sedate than one would find on a typical cable channel, but it was easy to imagine the appeal to consumers of the time.  The poses were more provocative than pornographic.  And often it wasn’t just a lone woman.  It was lovers, or groups of people, clearly enjoying one another.

There was a film reel, from the days of silent film.  Two women partially undressed, flirting with the camera.  Again, rather tame by modern standards, but fascinating.

There were victorian erotic illustrations, and sex manuals.  One was titled A Guide to Penis Sucking for Wives and Mistresses.  Peggy was actually curious to see what that one said, but there was no way she was going to be caught reading that with her brother on the premises.

Next were menus from nineteenth century brothels.  Peggy had no idea how the cost would equate to modern standards.  What was the deal with goose feathers?  There was no way that was sanitary.  She did have to applaud the creativity of some of the menu items, as well as the terms and conditions.  

She glanced at Steve.  “Do you have a menu?”

His gaze locked with hers, and she suddenly regretted her smartass remark.  Not because he seemed offended.  But because he didn’t.

He stepped closer, looking down at her, and she was once again noticing just how dim the lighting was in this room, and just how tipsy she was.  She looked up at him.

“Do you really want to know?”

She swallowed thickly.  “I, uh - “

“We need a picture!”

It took Peggy a moment to process that the crazy yelling people were yelling at her and Steve.  It was one of Val’s bridesmaids, Cora, and Val’s friend, Mark.  And they were both holding up their phones.

“Pardon?”

Steve had instinctively moved closer, wrapping his arm around Peggy’s waist.

“We need a picture,” Mark repeated.  “Of you two.”

Peggy smiled, albeit awkwardly.

Mark rolled his eyes.  “Come on.  It’s the Museum of Sex.  A little PDA would be appropriate.  It’s for Val’s scrapbook.”

Peggy laughed.  What the hell was happening?  She looked up at Steve, who didn’t look thrilled, but seemed resigned.

“Let’s get this over with so they’ll go away,” he said under his breath.

Peggy tilted her head up and Steve gave her a quick kiss.

“You can do better than that,” Mark said, sounding completely disgusted with them.

Peggy cleared her throat and looked at Steve.  He pulled her closer, chest to chest, one of his hands at her hip, the other at the small of her back.  She reached up, wrapping her hand around the nape of his neck, urging his head down to hers.

His lips were so soft, softer than they looked.  He waited for her.  She nipped at his lips, their breaths mingling.  She was aware of his fingertips digging into her hip, the too quick pace of his breathing.  It wasn’t until she touched the tip of her tongue to the inside of his upper lip, that he pulled her tighter against him, slanting his mouth against hers as he deepened the kiss.

Then it was just a blur for a while.  Her hands were in his hair.  One of his hands was on her ass, the other was tracing along the outside of her breast.  The kisses were an accurate representation of what the rest of their bodies wanted to be doing, their tongues moving against one another, teasing, tantalizing.  _  Fuck _ , she wanted him.  He growled her name, hitching her higher against his body.  She could feel him against her belly and she wanted him, right then and there.

Suddenly, a blindingly bright light was shining in their faces.

“You need to stop.”

Peggy immediately stepped back from Steve, nearly tripping in the process.  There was a rather small woman with a very large flashlight frowning at them.  Peggy groaned, screwing her eyes shut.  “Uh, sorry, yeah,” she said.  “No problem.”

The security guard sighed at them dramatically, but turned off the flashlight and stepped away.

Peggy looked at Steve, who appeared to be doing some deep breathing exercises.

“How, uh,” Peggy started, “how long were we doing that?”

Steve blew out a sharp breath and nodded.  “I think it was a while.”

She looked around the room.  Most people seemed to be pretty engrossed in their pornography viewing.  “Do you think anybody noticed?”

“You mean anybody other than the security guard?”

Peggy groaned.  “God, we’re leaving.”

They hurried through the rest of the exhibits and then out through the gift shop and back out on the sidewalk.  It was cold, and misting lightly.  Steve’s color was still high, bright pink splotches across the tops of his cheeks.  And his lips were swollen.

Peggy was still a little drunk.  Not bad, but certainly not completely sober.  And she was still aching for Steve.

She looked at him, and he looked at her.  They both knew what they wanted.

“Fire me,” he said.

She blinked at him.  “What?”

He stepped closer, looking down at her.  He articulated very carefully.  “Fire.  Me.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but realized she didn’t know what to say.

Steve took her hand and led her a couple hundred feet down the block, away from the crowds that were gathered at the corner.  Slowly, deliberately, he backed her against the building, pressing against her.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she couldn’t get enough air.  Jesus, he felt so good.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear as he said, “Fire me, Peggy.  I’m not going to sleep with you as long as you’re paying me.  Take a chance.  Put this farce of a relationship to bed and find out what we really have between us.”

“Steve - “  But she didn’t have anything else to say.  

He pulled back and looked down at her, waiting.  

She knew how much he wanted her.  She could feel it pressing against her stomach.  And, God, she wanted him.  

But what if she fucked this up?  She fucked up every relationship she’d ever had.  And she couldn’t.  Not this.  Not with him.  Not now.  She needed him too much.

He sighed.  “Coward,” he said softly.  He didn’t even sound angry, just disappointed.

Taking a deep breath, he backed away from her.  He paced away, and then back.  He looked at her.  “Come on,” he said.  “I’ll make sure you get home safe.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, looking at him.  She went to stand next to him, but he didn’t extend anymore olive branches.  “What are you going to do tonight?” she asked.

He looked down at her, holding her gaze.  “Do you want to know?”

She stuck out her chin.  “Yes.”

“I’m going to make sure you get home okay, then I’m going to take a train back to Brooklyn, and then I’m going to jerk off while I think about you.”

“Jesus,” she cursed, screwing her eyes shut as her body clenched at his words.

“You asked,” he said flatly.

 

* * *

 

The uber back to her place was excruciating.  She wanted Steve.  He wanted her.  But it just couldn’t happen.  Not now.  Maybe later, once things were more under control.  Once her parents were safely back in England, and work wasn’t such a disaster.

Every time she glanced over at him, she couldn’t help but think about what he said he was going to do.  She had no doubt he was serious.  It should have been repulsive.  But it absolutely wasn’t repulsive.  She wanted to watch.  Or help.  

Hands.  

_ Mouth. _

She crossed her legs and turned her body away from him, trying to concentrate on the scenery passing outside the window.

As soon as the car stopped, she was out on the sidewalk.  Steve followed at a much more sedate pace.  He didn’t venture too close, prefering to nod goodnight to her from a good twenty feet away.

“I’ll see you Tuesday for the tux fitting,” he said.

She nodded.

And with that, he was gone.

 

* * *

 

Peggy slept like shit.  She needed to stop drinking.  She rolled over and picked up her phone.  The last texts were the ones Jen had sent to Steve, pretending to be her.

Before she could think better of it, she texted him again.

>  Did you do what you said you were going to do?

She tossed the phone down on the mattress, staring at the ceiling.  Why was she torturing herself like this?

The phone dinged.  

What the fuck was she doing?  She picked up the phone and looked at the message.

>  Yes.  Twice.

She rolled over and smashed the pillow over her head, yelling into it in frustration.

 

* * *

 

On Tuesday, Peggy was running late as usual.  Steve was already wearing the tux, standing in front of a semicircle of mirrors, with some little Jewish man kneeling in front of him with his hand and a tape measure buried in Steve’s crotch.

“Am I interrupting?” Peggy asked.

Steve shot her a withering look.  Peggy ignored him, removing her coat and tossing her handbag down into a chair.  This was serious business.  She’d seen Steve in a badly tailored tux and it wasn’t happening.  Not on her watch.  She had no idea how much time he spent in the gym, but whatever it was, it deserved to be memorialized with an exquisitely tailored fit.  Peggy and the tailor were in agreement on this issue.

With Steve’s lower half, however, there were several pointed disagreements.  The tailor favored a medium break to the pant legs.  Peggy insisted on a slight break.  The second issue was in the arena of just how snugly the fabric should cling to the curves of Steve’s ass.  Again, Peggy won.  It was a victory for ass aficionados everywhere.

Steve was quiet through all of it, watching with a bemused expression as Peggy and the tailor volleyed back and forth.   The tailor finally retreated to the back room in a huff, muttering under his breath.

Steve and Peggy were alone.  

Steve looked at her, his hand shoved in his pockets.  “How are you?”

She took a deep breath and frowned at him.

“If you’re frustrated, it’s your own fault.  I’m more than willing to help you out, if you’d stop being a coward.”

She crossed her arms over her chest.  “Who says I’m frustrated?”

He arched an eyebrow at her.  “No?” he baited.  “You taking care of business by yourself?”

“Oh please,” she snapped.  “Like you think I’m just going to wallow in frustration for days when there’s a perfectly simple solution at hand.”  She snorted.  “That’s probably what you’d like to think.”

“I believe you’re incredibly capable,” he said, with all seriousness.  Then he added, “But it’s never as good as the real thing.”

“I’m done talking to you,” she said.

He was spared having to reply by the tailor’s return.  Steve changed into his regular clothes, and Peggy made arrangements to have the tux collected on Friday morning.  They left the shop together and found a restaurant to get dinner.

Despite their earlier titillating verbal sparring, their dinner conversation was quite sedate.  They caught hadn’t had a chance to have a proper discussion in a long time.  They caught up.  Peggy heard about how Steve’s latest art commissions were going, and his plans in the new year.  She told him about her crappy job, and the latest insanity with her family.

“My mother asked me if I would bleach my hair blonde for the ceremony.”

Steve frowned.  “Why?”

“Because there are too many brunettes,” she said.  “Mother thinks it will throw off the balance in pictures.”

Steve looked pained.  “What did you say?”

“I reminded her about that time when I was fifteen and I bleached my hair and she grounded me for six months.”

He raised his eyebrows.  “Damn.”

“She’s lost her goddamn mind,” Peggy said, frowning.

Peggy was shocked at how much of a relief it was to talk to Steve.  She’d missed him.  He seemed to take all of her drama in stride, without judging her.  He was insightful, and empathetic.

When they left the restaurant, Steve asked her if she was heading home.

“No,” she said.  “I have to go back to the office.  I have a mountain of paperwork.”

He nodded.  “Look, call me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will,” she promised.

He took a deep breath and exhaled sharply.  “I’ll see you Friday for the rehearsal dinner.”

“Yeah.  Friday.”

“Sleep well, Peggy.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy spent a lot of time over the next several days thinking about all the reasons why she and Steve needed to keep their relationship strictly by the book.  The problem was, she wasn’t even doing a decent job of convincing herself anymore.  And apparently she’d never done a good job of convincing Steve.

Their texts were chatty and conversational.  But as the evenings wore on, they inevitably ventured into territory where two people, who said they were only business colleges, should not be venturing.  Some not entirely above board photos.  Decidedly risque conversations.

Late at night, Peggy thought about what Steve had said, to call him if she needed anything.  She definitely needed something.  And he’d given some very unsubtle hints as to what he’d be willing to do to help her out if she would take the next step.  But she couldn’t call him.  Not unless she was willing to go all in.

Maybe she could do it.  Maybe she could make it work this time.  She was already better friends with Steve than she’d been with any recent romantic entanglements.  She liked him.  She trusted him.

Maybe it was even more than that.

 

* * *

 

On Friday morning, she made a decision when she was brushing her teeth.  By the time she was on her second cup of coffee at the office, she’d reconsidered.  She rallied by mid afternoon.  But on the subway home, she was reconsidering again.

At home, she jumped in the shower.  By the time she was blow drying her hair, her resolve had once again solidified.  

She got the call that Steve was downstairs, and had the doorman send him up.  She was still in her robe when she opened the door.  Immediately, she handed him her necklace and scooped her hair out of the way.  

Steve dutifully settled the necklace in place and closed the delicate clasp.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling at him.  “Take your coat off.  It’s going to be a few minutes.”

She finished dressing, and checked her reflection.  She hadn’t applied any lipstick.  By the time she returned to the living room, her stomach was in knots again.

Steve stood up as soon as she entered the room.  “You look great.”

She was wearing a red sleeveless dress with a bateau neckline.  There was a cutout detail across the chest that exposed the top of her cleavage.  She knew the color and cut were flattering, but she was glad he liked it.

“You look nice as well,” she said.  His outfit was considerably more understated.  A dark blue button down shirt and a pair of dark trousers.  Both pieces could stand to be tailored a little more closely to his proportions, but it was still a good look.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Almost,” she said, taking a breath.  Her heart was beating too fast.

Seeming to understand that there was some hesitation on her part, he watched her closely.

She took a deep breath.  “Steve, you’re fired.”

For a moment, he had no reaction, but then he burst into laughter.  “Good,” he said with obvious relief, crossing the room to her, “because I was going to quit anyway.”

He pulled her into his arms and she kissed him hungrily.  

Before it could get too out of control, she put her hands against his chest and pushed him back.  “Okay,” she said.  “ _ Yes _ .  But not now.  We have to go to the rehearsal dinner.  We’re already going to be late.”

She could tell he wanted to argue, but he didn’t.  He just nodded.  “Okay.  But later, we have plans.”

 

* * *

 

In the car on the way to the restaurant, he said, “Isn’t there usually a rehearsal before a rehearsal dinner?”

“They had it without me,” she said sourly, “my mother refuses to work around my schedule.  She’s just going to let me wing it tomorrow.”

He smiled at her.  “I assume you can just follow the crowd of people in dresses that match yours.”

“There is that,” Peggy agreed, placated.  Steve was right.  Peggy didn’t have to do any readings or anything like that.  She just had to stand in her place in line, smile, and not trip.  Surely she could manage.

Steve reached over and took her hand in his, threading their fingers together.  She tried to ignore the butterflies in the pit of her stomach.  Shit.  She was in so far over her head.

 

* * *

 

The rehearsal dinner was hosted by Peggy’s parents, at a very nice restaurant in Manhattan.  The decorations, music, food, and beverages were all perfectly selected to enhance one another.  Michael and Val seemed to be enjoying themselves, which was the only thing that was important as far as Peggy was concerned.

Just as she was sitting there wondering how much her mother spent on the centerpieces, Steve leaned over and said, “These poor people have to work Christmas Eve eve.”

Peggy glanced up at the wait staff.  It was true.  At least they’d be tipped exceptionally well.  She hoped it made it worth it for them.  She looked at Steve.  “Up until an hour ago, you were working Christmas Eve eve too.”

He smiled at her.  “I was never going to be working the entire evening.”

She rolled her eyes and took a drink of her wine.  “So conceited.”

“Not conceited,” he said, patting her on the thigh under the table.  “Just committed to a mutually favorable outcome.”

Peggy tried vainly to ignore him, and her reaction to him.  It was impossible.  Especially now, knowing that it was a certainty that Steve was going to come home with her, and they were going to make their fake relationship completely real.

She glanced at him and found him watching her intently.  She could feel heat rising in her cheeks.  “Stop watching me,” she hissed.

  
“Can’t help it,” he said, unrepentantly.  “You’re the most beautiful thing in the room.”

God, she hated how much she liked that.  She was nauseating herself.  It was absolutely disgusting.  She couldn’t remember the last time she was so happy.

The dinner seemed interminable, though later, Peggy could recall almost none of it.  Val looked radiant.  Michael seemed genuinely, deeply happy.  And Amanda, for all that she refused to accommodate Peggy’s schedule, was shockingly pleasant.  Steve was able to once again charm her, and had her blushing like a schoolgirl.  

The private room where the dinner was being held had a phenomenal view of the city.  It was snowing again.  Peggy stood near the windows, watching the scene.  Steve came to stand next to her.

She looked up at him.  “You seemed to have a great time with my mother.”

He made a noncommittal sound.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were planning on taking her home, rather than me,” she teased.

Steve looked at her, his gaze burning with intensity.  “I’m definitely taking you home tonight.”

She swallowed thickly, feeling her whole body tingling.

The dinner didn’t run too late.  Everyone would have a big day tomorrow.  It was an evening wedding, but there would be plenty of things for the wedding party to do during the morning and afternoon.  Peggy had been informed by her mother,  that she was expected to be at the church by eleven.  

As things wrapped up, everyone said their goodnights.  They’d all see one another soon enough.  Peggy was very aware of Steve’s hand, resting at the small of her back.  All too soon, and yet not soon enough, they were finally bundling into a car, on the way back to her apartment.

Neither of them spoke, but the air was thick with tension.  They were holding hands, touching lightly.  Peggy couldn’t look at him.  It was too much, too intense.  The ride seemed to take forever.  It felt like they hit every red light between the restaurant and her apartment.

Finally, the car pulled up in front of her building.  As she stepped out, Steve was half a step behind her.  The knowledge made her pulse beat faster, her breath come quicker.  She felt hunted, and she loved it.  She strode inside the building, nodding to the doorman.  As soon as the elevator opened, she and Steve hurried inside.

The moment the doors closed, Steve crowded her against the back of the elevator.  Her hands instinctively came up, grasping fistfulls of his coat, pulling him closer, while his hands settled at her hips.  He whispered her name like a curse, like he was losing some internal war with himself.  He moved his head, brushing his lips lightly against hers.  Unbidden, she made a plaintive, needful noise, tugging at him as she pushed herself up on her toes, kissing him again, harder.  

And then all that existed was Steve.  The taste and smell and feel of him.  She hadn’t even noticed the elevator stopped, when Steve was tugging her out, toward her apartment.  She fumbled with the key, but finally managed to get the door open.  Steve nearly dragged her inside, pinning her back against the door as he shut and locked it, not bothering to turn on any lights.

They shed their coats in a rush, hands desperate to touch skin.  They stumbled and laughed their way to the bedroom, stopping to remove shoes, and other articles of clothing, kissing and licking and biting as they went.

By the time they tumbled down onto her bed, Peggy was wearing only her bra and panties, Steve his trousers and socks.  The feel of his naked skin against hers was unbelievable and she gasped, pulling him closer.

“ _ Peggy _ ,” he groaned, kissing her neck as he fought with the closure on her bra.  

She did him the favor of releasing the eyehooks and he pulled the material away slowly, cursing under his breath.  “I thought I got a good look at the Stark gala, but Jesus Christ.”

She smiled, carding her fingers through his hair as he dipped his head to suck her nipple between his lips.  Her breath caught at the sensation of his tongue and teeth, suction against her sensitive flesh.  Meanwhile, his hands were everywhere, touching, mapping, claiming.  He released her nipple from his mouth, kissing his way up her chest to her neck.

Peggy, however, was done being passive.  With a growl, she flipped him over onto his his back, straddling him as she went to work on the fly of his trousers.  She stopped for a moment, cupping him through the fabric.  He groaned, shuddering.  Carefully, she worked the zipper down, and then, with his help, pulled his trousers and shorts down his hips.

They were both breathing hard, her still straddling his supine form.  Carefully, she touched him, making his breath hiss through his teeth.  He was so hot, so hard.  She stroked him.  There was already moisture beading at the head of his cock.  He said her name in a strangled whisper, his hand closing around hers, holding her still.

“You need to stop,” he said, sounding breathless.

She smiled and leaned forward, kissing him, all teeth and tongue.  “No, I don’t.  I’ve been thinking about doing this for weeks.”

He made a helpless noise, but didn’t stop her as she dipped her head, taking him in her mouth.  She was lost for a moment, in the taste of him against her tongue, the feel of him in her mouth.  His hand was stroking her back, encouraging, but not demanding.  He was too big for her to take all of him into her mouth, so she continued to stroke him with one hand, bringing it up to meet her lips.  Her other hand ventured lower, cupping and stroking more vulnerable territory.

He was babbling.  “Fuck, Peggy,  _ yes _ .”

She worked him over, thinking about how badly she’d wanted to do this after he told her he planned to jerk himself off while thinking about her.  She moved her hand faster, scraped her teeth ever so lightly.  And then with a gasp he was coming.  

She sat back, looking down at him with satisfaction.  Once he was recovered, he tugged her down onto his chest, kissing her deeply.  He rolled them both onto their sides, and kicked away the rest of his clothes.

“That wasn’t what I had planned,” he groused.

“Yeah?” she said, unconcerned.  “It’s what I had planned.”

Steve immediately returned the favor, kissing his way down her body and settling himself between her legs.  He seemed intent on making a point, bringing her to not just one peak, but two, before he finally crawled back up her body.

After that, they touched and kissed for a long time, talking about everything.  The feel of him, finally naked and warm against her, was so much better than she’d dared imagine.  In his arms, she felt safe and happy in a way she hadn’t dreamed was possible.

Little by little, the kisses became more insistent, the touches more daring.  Steve rolled onto his back, pulling her over him.  Peggy kissed him as she took him in hand, guiding him where she wanted him.  They both groaned as she slid down on him.

They moved together slowly at first, drawing out every sensation.  His fingers found her, teasing and stroking.  She was shaking, panting, rocking her hips to chase his fingers as her body clenched around him.  

“Come for me, Peggy,” he encouraged, rubbing her faster.

She nodded, crying out as her body shivered around him.  As soon as she could catch her breath, he rolled her over, driving into her.  She wrapped her legs around him, biting down on his earlobe and his hips slammed against hers a final time.

 

* * *

 

They dozed, until one of them would wake enough to encourage the other to wake.  Inevitably there was talking and kissing.  Usually there was more love making.  This went on for a long time.

Finally, it was the darkest hour of the night.  Peggy was mostly asleep, her entire body languid, luxuriating in the feel of Steve against her.  She was too tired to move, too tired to do anything but lie there and enjoy the moment.  

Steve made a sleepy noise and rolled over, wrapping his arm possessively around her waist and burying his face against her shoulder.  She thought he’d fallen asleep when she heard him whisper, “I think I love you, Peggy.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy woke to Steve’s kisses and a room filled with sunlight.  She groaned, trying to hide her face in the pillow.

“You need to wake up,” he said.  “You told your mom you’d be at the venue at eleven.”

“I lied.”

“Peg.”

“Go away.”

He laughed and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her as he kissed her neck.  “I have to go back to my place.  The ceremony starts at five, right?”

She groaned, pulling him closer, wrapping her legs around him.  “You can’t leave.”

“ _ Peggy.” _

She kissed his collarbone, snaking a hand between their bodies, stroking him.  He quit complaining and kissed her.

  
  


* * *

 

They were finally both awake.  She looked over at Steve, completely naked, lounging in her bed.  It was an intensely compelling sight.

“It’s ten,” he said.  “You’re going to be late.”

She groaned, flopping over onto her stomach.  He pressed a kiss to the top of her spine and then got out of bed.  She looked over, watching him dress.  She finally propped herself up on her elbow.  

Dressed, he leaned across the bed and kissed her.  “Have a good day.  Try not to get in a fight with your mother.  I’ll see you at the ceremony.”

She frowned.  “Why can’t I just go with you?”

“Peggy.”

“I know,” she groused.

He was shaking his head as he walked out of the bedroom.  “Go shower,” he called.  She heard the door close.

She flopped over onto her back.  She was exhausted physically and mentally.  But she was deliriously, giddily happy.  She finally forced herself out of bed.

 

* * *

 

The venue for the wedding was in lower Manhattan.  It was gorgeous building, all old brick and exposed wrought iron metalwork.  An unbelievable amount of fresh flowers had been brought in, and it looked like more were being delivered by the hour.

In the basement, they had a staging area, where the bridal party could prep.  There were comfy couches and ample snacks.  Against one wall, mirrors had been set up, with chairs for hair and makeup.  Several of the bridesmaids were already in chairs, chatting and laughing, having their hair and makeup done by stylists.

It wasn’t that Peggy disliked the girls.  It was just that she’d had about two hours of sleep and, despite being deliriously happy, she sort of wanted to die.  She took the chair at the far end of the room and slumped down, pulling a stocking cap over her eyes.

She must have nodded off.  When she woke up, there was a man of indeterminate age standing next to her.  He was incredibly tall, thin, and pale, with bleach blond hair and no eyebrows.  She was completely unprepared when he spoke.  He sounded like Harvey Fierstein.

“First question,” he said.  “Was it consensual?”

Peggy blinked and sat up.  “Pardon?”

He motioned in her general direction and she looked in the mirror and gasped.  “Good lord.”  Despite showering earlier, she hadn’t actually looked at herself.  Her neck was covered in love bites and whisker burn.  She pulled her shirt open enough to look at her chest and immediately chlutched the material to herself again, cursing.

The makeup artist was still looking at her expectantly.

She nodded.  “Very consensual.”

“Excellent,” he said.  “So second question, is the Seventh Fleet in town?”

Her brow furrowed.  “I don’t - “

He pursed his lips together at her.  “Honey, please.  It looks like about five guys did you over.”

Peggy snorted, screwing her eyes shut.  She shook her head.  “Just one guy.”  She took a breath.  “Five times.  At least.”

“Disgusting,” he declared.  “You know what’s more disgusting?  I was home last night with Netflix and my cats.”

Peggy gave him a small smile.  “I’m sorry.”

“Believe me, you’re not as sorry as me.”

The makeup artist’s name was Dustin and Peggy adored everything about him.  They managed to find coffee, and brandy, which restored Peggy considerably.  She sat in the chair, leaning forward, surveying the damage.  It really was terrible.  And her bridesmaid’s dress wouldn’t be much help in covering things up.

“Don’t worry,” Dustin assured her, “I’ve got this handled.  I can camouflage your sailor situation.”

“He’s not a sailor,” Peggy said, “he’s an artist.”

Dustin shook his head.  “Even worse,” he said sagely.  He gave her a pointed look.  “Are you having trouble walking?”

“Honestly,” she said, “yeah, a little.”

“ _ Bitch _ ,” he said with obvious envy.

 

* * *

 

Dustin was a miracle worker.  He managed to hide all of the love bites, whisker burn, and the fact that Peggy looked half dead from exhaustion.  Her hair was curled in soft waves, and fortified with about five pounds of dry shampoo and hairspray.  She wolfed down a sandwich and chips before she had to squeeze into the strapless burgundy velvet bridesmaid’s gown.

And then it was picture time.

It went on for  _ hours _ .  Peggy and the rest of the bridal party were left, mostly standing around, for hours while thousands of pictures were taken of Michael, Val, and every possible combination of bridal party and family members.  It would have been bad enough if Peggy hadn’t also been wearing four inch heels and a strapless dress in the middle of December.

By the time they were finally done with pictures, Peggy hated  _ everyone _ .  She was starving and cold and her feet hurt.  By the time the pictures were finally over, guests were starting to arrive.  Peggy was getting ready to sprint for the couches in the basement when she caught sight of Steve in his tux.  It was a breathtaking sight.

He smiled broadly at her and immediately made his way across the room, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her.  She laughed as they pulled apart.  “You have lipstick all over your face now.”

He shrugged.  “It’ll wipe off.”

He walked down the basement with her and made sure she was comfortable on one of the couches before he found her a bag of trail mix.  She looked at him as he handed it to her, overcome.

“What?” he said.  “Trust me, you should eat something, it’ll be better if you don’t kill anybody during the ceremony.”

She blinked quickly against the burning of her eyes.  God, she was exhausted, that was it.  “That’s just ... really sweet,” she managed.

He smiled at her and pulled her close.  “Eat your snack.”

 

* * *

 

The ceremony was gorgeous.  Despite her best efforts, Peggy cried through the vows.  At least Dustin had assured her all the makeup was waterproof.

After the ceremony was the dinner, which was phenomenal because 1. Food, and 2. Steve.  Peggy’s mood and mental stability were both fortified by eating and having Steve at her side.  The toasts were funny and touching.  The cake cutting was a bit of a disaster, but in the best possible way.

When the dancing started, Steve pulled Peggy close, like it was the most natural thing in the world.  They fit perfectly, moving in time together.

 

* * *

 

Everyone gave Michael and Val a raucous sendoff.  They were going to Bali for two weeks.  Peggy was certain they would have a fabulous time.

As soon as they were gone, Peggy was looking for her bag and coat.  She didn’t even bother saying goodbye to her mother.  She just snuck out a side door with Steve and caught a train back to her place.  

It had been a very long day and they were both exhausted, but everything between them was all still so new.  Every moment deserved to be celebrated.

They undressed slowly and fell into bed together.  It definitely lacked the previous night’s athletics, but it felt, somehow, more intense.  Peggy finally drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the feel and smell and taste of Steve.

 

* * *

 

Peggy woke first.  The sun was up, though it couldn’t have been very late.  Steve was asleep next to her, sleeping on his stomach, half of his face buried in a pillow.  She watched him.  His hair was sticking up in uneven spikes, though she was hardly one to complain.  Hers had to look worse.  She reached out and ran her fingers along his stubble roughened jaw.

He made a plaintive noise, his eyes squinching tightly shut.  It was clear he didn’t want to wake up.

She smiled at him and whispered, “I think I love you too.”

His eyes immediately popped open and he pushed himself up on his elbows before pulling her close.  He kissed her slowly and thoroughly, making her toes curl and her body shiver.  For a long time, there was no more talking.

 

* * *

 

Later, when the sun was higher in the sky, they both flopped back against the pillows, sated and happy.   “Merry Christmas, Steve.”

He laughed.

“What?”

“Do you remember when you asked me if I had a girlfriend to curl up with on Christmas morning?”

She smiled, remembering.  It seemed like a lifetime ago.

He pulled her close, running his hands up and down her naked back.  “As it turns out, I guess I do.”

She nodded, kissing him again.  “You certainly do.”

THE END

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so here’s the thing.   The week before they got naked together, Steve and Peggy had a very detailed discussion about safe sex, and how they’d both been tested for STDs.  Steve has female and male clients.  He gets tested regularly, and he ALWAYS practices safe sex.**  Peggy does as well, and she’s on birth control.
> 
> However, I tried many iterations, and including their safe sex negotiations in the story completely bogged down the narrative and killed the mood of the story.  So I took it out.  But it’s important, so I wanted to include it, even if it was just in a note.
> 
>  
> 
> ** Steve is a sex worker with both male and female clients.  The thing that Steve is reluctant to tell Peggy is that he almost never has sex with his clients.  As much as he doesn’t judge, he also doesn’t stand for being judged.  He’s a sex worker.  The rest of it is no one’s business.  End of story.  However ... he only ever had sex with two clients, both female, and both within six months of getting into the escort business.  Turns out, it wasn’t his thing.  And he could make money being arm candy.  So that’s what he does.  He goes to a lot of fancy parties with a lot of very wealthy people, and he looks very pretty.  Or looked.  He doesn’t do that anymore, now that he’s with Peggy.


End file.
